


Avant Le Déluge

by orphan_account



Series: Children of a Divided Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming of Age, Crew as Family, Eventual Pairings, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Origin Story, POV Multiple, Past Abuse, Teenagers, cross-faction friendship, this is entirely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After escaping from the imploding Imperial dreadnaught Black Iron, five young women find themselves indebted to each other.  Facing an uncertain future, they throw their lot in together.  But with the threat of the Empire discovering their continued existence and their checkered pasts keeping them away from the Republic, they must face their demons on their own to survive.





	1. 3.20.4 ATC

**Author's Note:**

> About the story: This whole project is an entirely self indulgent series to tell the stories of my OCs from Star Wars: The Old Republic.  
> This is the first part of the Children of a Divided Universe series. Avant Le Deluge follows the primary characters through their journey from scrappy kids to the young people they become at the the Star Wars: The Old Republic's story lines. I'm also playing around a lot with POV, so this could be rewritten entirely at some point. I thrive on feed back and this is my first time posting anything I've written, so please leave comments, suggestions, and tips! I would really appreciate it.
> 
> A Note on Time: Since this will ultimately cover a large swath of time between the start of this story and the start of the in game story lines, I'll be labeling each chapter with a date using the order of month.day.year. I'm using the Galactic Standard Calendar, which breaks time down into the following units:  
> 60 seconds = 1 minute  
> 60 minutes = 1 hour  
> 24 hours = 1 day  
> 5 days = 1 week  
> 7 weeks = 35 days = 1 month  
> 10 months + 3 festival weeks + 3 holidays = 368 days = 1 year  
> BTC=before treaty of Coruscant  
> ATC=after treaty of Coruscant

**3.20.4 ATC**

_____________

 

Anndara

The universe swayed and tumbled.  Anndara’s mind was hazy and the pain that coursed through her body sent spiraling tendrils through her mind, creating a siren song of unconsciousness.  But the cold pressure of the surface she was laying on and the coppery taste of blood coating the back of her mouth pulled her into the waking world.  Everything hurt. Someone took her hand and she registered the distant pressure. It was an unsteady hand, shaking and clammy, and she could hear hitched and trembling breathing nearby.  She tried to move her head or open her eyes, but her body did not respond to the sluggish commands. The surface she was laying on lurched and the person squeezed her hand a little tighter.  Voices flitted about her as the shaking became more intense.

“This is Regan Hyra on board The Horranth, we need emergency medical attention! I repeat, emergency medical attention!”

The voice was loud and steady, but there was a note of desperation in it.  

“What if she doesn’t make it?”  The imperial accent marked this voice as different, it was much closer and unlike the first was cracked and ragged.

“She’ll make it.”  This voice was quiet, but the conviction it held would have made a corpse decide that death wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  The pain swelled once more and Anndara felt herself beginning to fall. As darkness closed back in around her mind, she hoped very much that the owner of that voice was right.

_________

 

Regan

On any other day, the sight of the Lyn-Taro Mining Facility would have been background noise to a regular day on the job with her parents.  On any other day, she would have thought that it was cool how stark the contrast was between the gleaming dove greys and whites of the station stood out against the jet black surface of the asteroid.  On any other day she would have passed out from the excitement of flying a freighter on her own. But not today. This was not any other day. This was in the top twenty of the worst days of her life. This was complicated by the fact that all nineteen of these other days were the past nineteen consecutive days and the closing ten days of the month held the promise of knocking this bad day out of the park.

Regan keyed the mic again as she brought the ship in for what was probably going to be an illegal landing anyways, she cleared her throat, “This is Regan Hyra on The Horranth.  Overseer Jerome, I know you’re gonna be pissed but we’re coming in anyways!”

She stretched across the console, taping at the landing display to bring back full manual control.  She hated automated landings. They were always too slow. She was in no mood for slow. The ship lurched as she forced it to doge yet another clump of debris.  

“Regan, what’s the status.”

The twi’lek didn’t look around as her companion approached the pilot’s chair.  After three months on the lamb with the Togruta, Regan knew she wasn’t asking about the landing permission.  Can we trust these people.  Can we get through this.

“We’re up shit creek.  I’ll talk us out of it,”  She said, as she pulled the ship into the docking bay, “Get her out as soon as possible, she needs to be stabilized.  We owe her that much. Keep her sister out of trouble.”

Regan heard Melyra jog away, hopefully to load their associate onto a stretcher for transfer.  As she set the ship down and heard the reassuring hiss of the landing gear taking the weight of the ship, she glanced out the window.  A group of people were running towards the ship. A medical team and she recognized the heavy figure of Overseer Jerome. She set her jaw, swung her self around in the chair and grabbed her jacket.   _Show time_.

Melyra and the red twi’lek Osanna were already down the ramp and passing the stretcher off to the med team by the time that Regan emerged from the ship.  The girl’s sister was hovering by one of the landing struts, watching them take her away.  Regan recognized some of the people, but she locked eyes with the now livid Overseer Jerome.  

The realization of how beat to shit they all were, never mind the mystery girl, began to sink in.  Melyra was covered in blood. The Togruta’s montral and lekku were burned and cut deeply in some places. Her arms were covered in bandages from burns and blaster bolts.  Swaths of Osanna’s face were turning from what Regan assumed was her typical crimson color to a purply-blochy mottling that didn’t do wonders for her complexion. Osanna had avoided most burns, but the robe that she wore had large chunks of the skirt missing and the belled sleeves had been signed away.  The sister’s face bore the unmistakable slice of a vibroblade wound that was only being held together by butterfly bandages. She also sported blaster bolt grazes cutting across her calves, fringed in by smoldering fabric and open to the air. She had refused any and all medical attention beyond the bare minimum. Regan was also now quite aware that the pain on the side of her face had subsided since applying kolto cream to her own burns but that the cream still covered most of the right side of her face and neck.  They didn’t look good. They were all desperate and deep fried in an almost literal sense. She had to keep Overseer Jerome in a charitable mood despite the goo on her face and the blood on everyone else. This was going to take some doing. The burly man stalked up to her and brought his reddened face inches from her own.

“Overseer Jerome,” she said brightly, pulling her face into what she hoped was a genial expression, “Thanks for the save!  We’d be dead meat if you hadn’t left the bay doors open--”

Before she could finish her sentence, Jerome cut in, his voice rising with each word, “We were in the middle of comms maintenance!  I have quotas to fill! Imps and Pubs breathing down my neck and now you! Compared to you decompression would be a joy!”

Regan’s bravado began to falter and her stomach dropped out as he then hissed in a deadly voice, “Where are your parents?  What the hell happened? Why are there a bunch of teenagers in my docking bay?”

She tried to rally herself, but the flash of images from the past months rose in her mind and her breath quickened uncomfortably in her chest.  She turned her eyes away, “That depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you runt.”

The tone caused her to snap her eyes back to him.  The intensity and severity of her gaze made Jerome take a step back.

“Then you best start nursing your best whiskey now,” she said dangerously quiet, “because you ain’t gonna like it.”

_________

Anndara

Her mind was still foggy when the med droid began tucking a blanket around her and the on call doctor began speaking to her.  The bright white of the room and the lights made everything seem to meld together. She felt very warm and...safe. It was a feeling that she let herself fall into.  It had been a while since she hadn't objected to sharp objects being near her.  She could feel the strange stretch of the tacky adhesive holding a sensor over her heart and one to her temple. The doctor’s form swam before her.

“How are you feeling?  Squeeze my hand if you can hear me,” The wavering face of the older zabrak man said.

She squeezed his hand.  

“Good.  We’re going to be moving you out of the operating theater shortly.  Honestly it was probably best that you came here. We have a lot of experience treating patients who have been injured by falling debris.  Okay, and lift.”

Anndara felt the jostling of being transferred from the stationary table to the floating gurney.  

“Okay, can you try telling me how your feeling?”

The lights and ceiling began moving.  If she moved her head just slightly, she could see the droid pushing the floating bed.  The quiet beeping of the monitor display that was connected to the droids arm sped up and slowed down occasionally.  She registered that it was her heart beat.

“Kinda fuzzy.”  She mumbled. Her throat felt very dry.

“Any pain?”

“No.”

“Excellent.  We gave you a fairly low dose of painkillers.  We can always give you more if needed.”

“Where am I?”

“The Lyn-Taro Mining station, Rayter Sector.  The med wing specifically. Do you remember the name of the ship you came in on?”

“Horranth, I think.”

“Good.  Can you tell us your name?  Do you remember who you came in with?”

She listened to the beeping as the doctor asked her questions.  She occasionally heard it slow down and a wave of sleepiness would pass over her.  The rational part of her mind that was only a little awake knew this was just the anesthesia but the primal part that was running full throttle sent a sharp knife of panic into her each time the beeping slowed.  She focused on her breath and keeping the beat steady.

“Can you squeeze my hand?  How are you feeling?”

The knife of panic ebbed.

“Yeah.  Anndara Kora.  My sister and...some other people.  Are they okay?”

“Good.  They are doing fine.  Anndara we’re going into your room now.  The medical droid will start you on some more kolto and some fluids.  Your IV is already in, you’ll just feel a little pressure when the fluids start, alright?”

“Kay.”

“Once you’re a little more back in the land of the conscious, I’ll have to talk with you some more and we’ll start having you drink some water.  I’m going to step out for about five minutes while I go get your sister. You are out of the woods and you’re in no danger.  With the standard procedure, you'll have all of your bandages off in three days, may be less.  You seem to be healing up very quickly.  If you need anything, the droid will call me or one of the nurses, all right?”

“Sure.”

The doctor squeezed her hand.  At some point the gurney had come to a stand still.  Rather than white, the room was now light blue with dim lights.  She worked her tongue around her mouth trying to bring some relief to the dryness.  She supposed this is what cottonmouth must feel like. She had never been drunk, but if this was any indication of what a hangover was like with the strange numbness and sticky throat, she never wanted to experience it again.  A few minutes passed. The world began to come back into sharper focus, and with it reality came sinking back in. She remembered the falling durasteel, reaching out with the force, pushing the others out of the way, and pain. She squeezed her eye shut, trying to block out the image of the burning and crumbling ship.  She began to deepen her breaths, trying to meditate to keep herself calm. It was a method she had used many times by now to reconnect with her body. She curled her fingers one by one, curling them in and pressing the pads to her palms, tensed her arms and untensed, pressing her shoulder blades back and into the padded gurney under her.  Then she flexed her feet...nothing...she felt nothing… Panic swelled through her as she attempted to bend her knees and only one responded. Her left leg pulled up from the bed while her right leg remained still, only the muscle straining to bend a joint that...wasn’t there. The panic bloomed in her chest and threatened to overwhelm her.  Distantly she heard the droid telling her that she needed to remain in bed, that she must calm down, as she pushed herself up with her hands. Her head spun as she sat up, pulling off the sheet to stare at her hospital gown clad body. Her eyes widened when they lighted upon the places where her left leg and her right foot should have been.  Her left leg ended just above the knee. Her right leg ended at her ankle. Both limbs were wrapped in bandages and kolto patches, but where the bandages ended, her legs were covered in burn salve and patched cuts. She let out a strangled cry.

 

___________

Melyra

Regan and Jerome had been in the Overseer’s office for a while now and Melyra was beginning to wonder if they were ever coming out.  Osanna sat on the sole chair, her robes neatly tucked around her, while the sister, who had introduced herself as Aurelia, paced the small office.  Melyra was leaning on the door frame.  She kept her eyes trained on the door to the infirmary wing and an ear out for the distant sound of Regan and Overseer Jerome’s raised voices.  She wasn’t confident they would be getting much charity outside of what they had already received.

“Do you think they’ll have to take her leg?”

Melyra looked up in surprise as Osanna spoke.  She had her hands clenched in her lap and her eyes down turned.  Melyra didn’t know what had passed between Osanna and the mystery girl, Anndara. No one did. What little they knew was that something happened that made Osanna very nervous.  Osanna wouldn’t even tell Aurelia.  Melyra had a distinct feeling that Osanna was afraid that she would be punished for what had happened. From what little she had gathered about Osanna, Melyra figured that Osanna had never been outside the Empire, maybe never even off of Dromund Kaas.  She also had the feeling that she had been raised as a kind of pet by a Sith lord.  At least that’s what she assumed.  And part of her didn’t want to dig too deeply into that topic.

“Probably.  I’ve seen enough field amputations to know,” she told the twi’lek.

This was obviously the wrong thing to say as Osanna curled in on herself and her tiny frame began to shake.  Aurelia stopped her pacing and shot Melyra a stern look. She moved to kneel beside Osanna and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“She’s strong.  She’s survived this long.  She'd put herself in harm’s way to help any of us, that includes you.  This isn’t your fault. I know that if she were here she would want to say that.  It wasn’t your fault,” Aurelia said, soothingly. Osanna nodded meekly.

As she watched Aurelia comfort Osanna, it struck Melyra as odd that their positions were not reversed.  It was strange that Aurelia, the one whose sister was undergoing surgery on a backwater mining colony after being busted out of an Imperial transport, was the one doing the consoling.  The human seemed to know what she was doing, Melyra mused, and had had that confidence throughout this entire fiasco. She was good at keeping herself under control, even though she looked to be about the same age as Melyra herself.  Thirteen, fourteen, somewhere in there. She was, perhaps, the exact opposite of Regan who seemed to fly through every situation with only the vaguest comprehension and always seemed to get through anything by the skin of her teeth and her outstanding ability to bull-shit.     

Then she heard the click of a door opening and a conspicuous lack of yelling.  She turned and saw Regan fuming down the hall. The sleeves of her oversized and disticntly second hand aviator jacket scrunched up to her elbows and her hands balled into fists.  The look on her face would have caused a Manka cat to turn and run. Melyra and Aurelia both stood up straight as Regan stormed into the room.

“It went that good, huh?”  Melyra asked as the green twi’lek pulled a box from her pocket and began to shake out a thin white stick.

“Must you smoke?”  Aurelia asked, distaste dripping from every word, “And where did you even get those?”

Regan ignored her the first part of the girl’s question as she balanced a cig between her lips, but her hands were shaking so badly she was struggling with the lighter, “I pulled them off that bastard.”

There was a particular venom in her voice that Melyra had not heard before.  She crossed her arms and tilted her head.

“What happened?”  She asked.

“He didn’t buy half my story.  Which is fine, half of it was made up,” Regan said as her lighter finally clicked to life, “But I wasn’t about to tell him the truth about, you know,” she gestured to Aurelia and Osanna and the movement put out the meager flame,“Dammit.  But he got the gist. He knows we’re on the run from the Empire but also that the ship we were on probably had no other survivors. But I wouldn’t put it past the Sith to have some kind of black box,” she finally succeeded in lighting the cig and she blew a stream of smoke into the room, Aurelia looked at the twi’lek in disgust, “So the bastard said to go to the Republic and I didn’t tell him why but I said that wasn’t an option for some of us,” she shot a glance at Melyra and Aurelia, “So HE got upset that he might have a bunch of felons on his station and wants us gone once Anndara is stable.  But before one rotation is done.”

Regan took another pull on the cig and let out another plume of smoke, shifting her gaze up to the ceiling.  Melyra could almost feel Regan’s heart pounding and she saw the shaking in her hand that held the cig, the thousand yard stare, the labored and shallow breaths.  From the sudden flash of concern on Aurelia’s face, Melyra knew she saw it too.

“Reeg, what’s the coordinates for Corelia, Dantooine, Kessel, and Sullust?”

Regan inhaled sharply through her mouth and began mechanically listing.  Aurelia gently pulled Osanna from her chair and Melyra carefully pulled Regan over and settled her down in it.  

“What’s happening?”  Osanna asked looking puzzled at the sudden coordination between the Togruta and the human.

“She’s having a panic attack,” Aurelia said gently as she carefully plucked the cig from Regna’s trembling hand and Melyra knelt down in front of the green twi’lek and gripped her shoulders firmly as she began to breathe more shallowly, “could you get her some water?”

“O-okay,” Ossana stuttered and moved beyond Melyra’s line of vision.

Melyra looked Regan in the eye and began to exaggerate her own breaths, breathing noisily through her nose and out through her mouth with a hissing sound, waiting for Regan to begin copying her.  After several minuets of unresponsive trembling and desperate breathing, Regan’s eyes began to focus.  She followed the pattern, breathing in and out. Melyra could tell that she wanted to cry but she also knew that Regan wouldn't do that in front of the others.  Part of her wished that she would.  It would bring some catharsis to the weight she knew Regan was carrying inside her chest.  Regan leaned forwards and let her forehead rest against Melyra’s, eyes closed, still breathing deeply, but more quietly and evenly.  She carefully placed a hand at the back of Regan’s head, returning the leaning pressure.

Melyra could feel Osanna standing behind her, but she let the silence hang in the air for a time before she quietly said, “We’re going to make it through this.”

She pulled away to take the water from Osanna as Regan muttered, “We always do.”

She noted the tremble in Regan's confirmation.  It might be a while before it was gone again.  Melyra offered her the cup and she took it, taking a sip and the resting her elbows on her knees, her head hanging down.

“Sorry ,” she said her voice cracking.  The other three immediately began to protest.  

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Aurelia replied, “I’ve had them too.  You cut it off very quickly. You’re doing well!”

“Yeah, you’re talking,” Melyra added.

Osanna nodded.  Melyra assumed she still hadn’t fully understood what was happening.  She didn’t blame her.

Regan looked up at Melyra, her body still shaking, and raised her cup to her, before taking another swig.  As Melyra nodded her head in acknowledgement, she heard the sound of running feet. She started towards the door-way when  the zabrak man skidded to a halt and panted, “Please come quickly!”

He was gesturing at Aurelia who immediately moved to follow.

“What’s going on,” Melyra asked.

“Miss Anndara is quite agitated, one of the nurses is with her now,” He said, turning and trotting away at a brisk pace.  Melyra half turned to Regan who was already standing up and waving her and Osanna to follow the Aurelia.

“I had hoped that she would not have tried moving so soon,” he continued as they moved down the hallway, “I had hoped that you would be there when I told her about her legs, but it seems I misjudge how quickly she would come out of the anesthesia.  For one as small as she is...that is to say, she has a very fast metabolism.”

“Yes," Aurelia agreed, rather distantly, “quite fast.  Is she alright?”

“Well, she is fine, physically,” The doctor replied as they passed through the medical wing doors, “But I believe she has attempted to remove her IVs and has thrown off every attempt to calm or restrain her.”

Aurelia broke into a run.

“Its room Five-Twenty--” the doctor began, but she had already rounded a corner, “never mind, she seems to know where she’s going.”

Melyra cast a cursory glance at him before picking  up into a run and following Aurelia.

 

________

Osanna

By the time Anndara had calmed down, the lights of the mining complex had already finished their cycle from their daylight simulation to their night simulation settings.   Regan and Melyra had stolen pillows from another room and had curled up on the floor. Osanna hovered in the doorway to the room, watching the sleeping forms of the sisters on the medbed.  Aurelia held her sister even in sleep. It was touching really, that they had each other. The peace of Anndara’s face a contrast to the anguish Osanna had seen only a little while ago. She tried to push the images away, but they filled her mind anyways, spilling over with washed out colors and deadened sounds.  

They had found her sobbing on the floor, a nurse and two droid standing over her.  One droid lay in pieces on the ground. Many of her wounds had reopened and the blood from the cuts on her face mingled with her tears in puddles beneath her cheek.  Heedless of this, Aurelia had laid down on floor facing her sister, she placed a hand on Anndara’s arm, and spoke to her softly. Osanna didn’t hear what she said, but something about what was said or how it was said had made Anndara’s sobbing redouble, and Aurelia just laid there and let her cry.  It had been then that Osanna looked at her legs. The bandages on her legs were pink in areas and…

Even now Osanna’s eyes lingered on the stumps where Anndara’s leg and foot used to be.  There was a type of horrid fascination that she didn’t like but it was bubbling in her gut all the same.  She had never seen a person who had lost limbs and it was disconcerting. And all of this roiled up the guilt.  She watched them for a moment more and then slipped away down the hall.

She walked the corridors of the facility aimlessly.  She wasn’t sure what to do with this whole no-one-telling-her-what-to-do thing. Once she had figured out what the Sith really we, she didn’t want to stay.  She should feel good about what she did. Now she just felt...empty. She could do...whatever she wanted. But what was that, exactly? How did this work? She tried to dig through all of her thoughts and feelings as she walked.  There was a lot to sift through. As far back as she could remember she had never left Dromund Kaas. Her flight on that transport with the Sith who had taken her out of her training had been the first time she had left the ground.  It had all gone so horribly wrong. It was her fault.

She must have left the medical wing and wandered into the living quarters because she found herself looking into a small kitchen and dining area.  The table was very clearly a hand-me-down or a relic from the dawn of time. It was dented and stretched and none of the legs were the same length.  There were a handful of datapads, some mugs, a pitcher, and several boxes on the table. At one end of the table, carefully pushing a block under one of the said table legs, was the zabrak doctor from earlier.  

He glanced up and smiled a little sadly at her, then righting himself and testing the table for stability he said, “If you can’t sleep, perhaps you would humor an old doctor and share a cup of caf?”

Osanna glanced around.  No one else was there, she couldn’t sleep, and she decided that it couldn’t hurt.  It was a small decision, but a decision nonetheless. She padded over to the table and settled herself in a chair close to the doctor.  

“I don’t believe you were in the room when I introduced myself to the others,” he said.

Osanna shook her head.  That must have been after she had seen them reconnect the IVs and she had run out to find the closest bin to be sick in.

“Doctor Lo, at your service,” he held out his hand.  She stared at it and then glanced back up at him, confused.

“You shake it,” he said encouragingly.  Osanna tentatively held out her own hand but was still very confused.  She had seen people bow to each other in greeting, but never this. Sith and Imperials tended to keep their distance.  It kept your lifespan a little longer. She had apparently let her hand hover in the air a little too long because Doctor Lo grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hand towards his other one.  The sudden contact set off alarm bells in her head and she violently pulled her hand way, smacking the back of her arm against the chair next to her as she jerked back. Doctor Lo began to back pedal, his brain working overtime.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in what he was hoping a nonthreatening manner, “I was just…”

Osanna’s mind was chanting warnings.  She had pulled her hand away, that was bad.  Bad, bad, bad. The part of her brain that was rational reminded her that not a few hours ago she’d left the Sith and that this was fine.  The part of her brain that worked best when one is overtired, stressed, and very out of one’s element was also holding court with the very persuasive argument that trial and error up until this point had yielded fairly poor results.  It was a stand off, so she compromised, by staring at him wide eyed and remained rooted rigidly to her seat.

“Are you...okay?”  He asked, his voice carrying deep concern, “I was just trying to show you how to shake hands.”

“I-I don’t want to be touched,” she said, “I’m just…”

He was still looking at her like that.  It wasn’t helping.

“I’m new to this whole thing and I don’t like being touched.”

The words came out a lot higher than she would have liked.  But it felt liberating. Saying it out loud. She wondered if this is what Regan felt like all the time, just saying things.  What a way to live.

“That’s fine,” he said, still rather confused, “So I’m guessing you haven’t been out much?”

It wasn’t an insult, Osanna decided, just a weird question.

“I got to go outside when I was on Dromund Kaas,” she said defensively, I mean she had seen trees and animals and monsters and stuff.  

Dr. Lo looked at her blankly and quietly said, “Oh.  Okay. Um, what’s your name?”

Osanna looked at him curiously before deciding that this was probably fine.

“Osanna,” She said curtly.

“That’s a...ah….That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“Would you like some Caf?”  He asked, gesturing to the carafe.

“What is...Caf?”  She asked, trying out the new word.

“It's a hot caffeinated drink made from beans on tropical worlds.  It's supposed to give you more energy,” he explained, “something of an acquired taste, though.”

 _She could do whatever she wanted_.

“Okay.”

The doctor poured the dark liquid into a mug and pushed towards her.

“There you go,” he said encouragingly, “give it a try.  It is kind of bitter.”

She glanced at the mug and then back up at the doctor.  He smiled and nodded in what could only be described as a baffled but supportive way.  She scooped up the mug and sniffed the contents tentatively. It smelled...well she didn’t have the words for how it smelled.  She didn’t know how to describe food other than ration dry and soupy. But she liked it, whatever the smell was. She took a sip.  She pursed her lips and her eyes watered.

“I also tend to make it rather strong,” Dr. Lo said absentmindedly took a sip from his own mug.  She managed to choke down the bitter liquid and set her cup down.

“I don’t think I like it,” she said, attempting to get rid of the taste by smacking her lips.

“A perfectly reasonable response,” he said, chuckling into his mug, “perhaps tea would be more your speed.”

They fell into silence for a while yet again while Dr. Lo sipped his Caf.  Osanna glanced at the datapads and boxes on the table.

“Curious?”  He asked, gesturing to the accumulated piles.  She nodded, turning her gaze back to him.

“It’s stuff I’ve collected for you and your friends,” He said and Osanna’s eyes went wide, “Overseer Jerome made it clear to me that you all can’t stay here, however, Regan has also made it clear that you are “hurting bad and we have fuck all places to go.”  She’s always had such a way with words. I’m guessing you're one of the ones from a rough situation. She may not be the best person in the galaxy, but I know Regan. She practically grew up here. She wouldn’t ask me for help if she had no other options. So, I’ve been asking people for donations.  And I’ve pulled together some of our surplus. Not much, but…”

He waved his hand as if to say it was nothing.  Osanna’s eye prickled and she would very much like him to know that it wasn’t nothing.  

“Thank you,” she said, quietly.

“Your friend, Anndara, she’s going to need some adaptive tech like--,” he began, but stopped mid sentence as Osanna began to cry.  Dr. Lo raised a hand to pat her shoulder but thought better of it and settled for rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said soothingly, “I can’t help much because I need my job here and Jerome's an ass, but we’re doing the best we can.  I promise.”

“You didn’t need to do any of this,” she said wiping her eyes, “Thank you.  You care. Thank you. And it's my fault she got hurt and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that we’re here and that we’re problems and that I don’t know how anything works and--”

“Hey, hey,” he cut in, “I don’t know where you come from--other than Dromund Kaas, which is a little weird--but you’re doing good.  You’ve been through a lot and I’m sure it's not your fault that she’s hurt these things just--”

“She got hurt pulling me out of a collapsing room.  If I hadn’t been stupid--”

“You can’t control a collapsing room.  She helped you.”

Osanna continued to cry and Dr. Lo was at a loss.  His usual methods for comforting people were at a disadvantage in this situation, but there was also the fact that once Osanna had started crying, she couldn’t stop.  It was like a release valve had finally been opened on all her emotions and the only thing that made sense was to let it out. Her eyes were so obscured by tears that she didn’t see Dr. Lo get up, but she did see the tissue box that was pushed in front of her.

“Its okay to cry, too.  It's good, in fact,” he said as she took a tissue and dabbed at her streaming eyes, “Just let it all out.”

“Thank you,” she said as she buried her face in her tissue.

 

 


	2. 3.21.4 ATC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on clothing: I refuse to believe that people walk around in armor or super techie clothes all the time, but the Star Wars universe doesn't give us much in terms of clothing jargon that isn't connected to very specific jobs or characters. You have the ubiquitous smuggler's garb and the dresses of Padme, but what would teenagers wear? And not everyone is ride or die for punk and leather. What do you wear when you're sitting on the couch binge watching the latest holovids? So, faced with this problem I've decided to just refer to clothing with words we have. Plus, I can't believe that the SW universe wouldn't have a sweatpants or hoodie equivalent in its street wear. This is probably inconsequential, but it bothers me and George Lucas didn't really think about the fashion aspect of his work until he had to do the prequels and The Clone Wars so I'm just gonna fill in what I want.
> 
> A note on the ship: I'm making it up because there's nothing to stop me.

**3.21.4 ATC**

__________

_Anndara_

 They had to leave today.  Despite all of Dr. Lo’s protests, Overseer Jerome had made it clear that they were not welcome on his station any more.  Anndara sat up in the medbed while the others sifted through the boxes Dr. Lo had put together for them.  She had been allowed to change out of the hospital gown.  With some assistance she had put on a baggy shirt and sweatpants, the legs rolled up so she could swap out the bandages in the evening.  It made her feel better to be in something clean that she hadn’t almost died in.    

Osanna came up to her, carrying a box that had been maked with Anndara’s name.  It was odd, being the one who had been unconscious for most of the time they had been together.  It seemed that they had all forged some type of connection, she could feel it.  Something in the force snaking between all of them, even her.  Osanna set the box down on the bed and Anndara took a good look at her.

She was about her height, on the short side for their age, and thin like her as well but she didn’t find that surprising.  Osanna had been born into slavery and the Sith were not kind to their slaves.  For the past three years Anndara had been...an experiment was one word for it she supposed.  Her eyes were bloodshot and Anndara was certain that hers were not better.  Her red skin was marked by the stripes of black that followed her lekku and matched the curve of her face, much different from the spots marking the green Regan.

“Dr. Lo and I put this together for you.  We...we found a hover chair too,” Osanna said, pulling off the lid.  

“Thanks, you didn’t have to, you know,” Anndara said.

“I wanted to,” Osanna replied quietly, “You saved my life and I feel responsible for…”

She trailed off and Anndara lowered her gaze to what remained of her legs.  She still couldn’t totally wrap her head around the idea that she couldn’t walk or that her legs were actually gone.  She kept thinking that they would just spring back into being or magically grow back.  Something.  It felt like...like she had lost a part of herself.  There was a substantial part that was gone in a literal way, but some other sensation gnawed at the back of her mind.  And then there was the phantom pains that were starting.  Just little twinges.  But they were there.  Dr. Lo had said once the initial med shots wore off they might become more common.  She hoped not.  But she couldn't regret what she had done, especially since this really couldn't be reversed, no matter how much she hoped.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” She said.  Her pulse quickened and her breath shortened as a pain shot through the leg that wasn't there.  She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes, “It’s not what Jedi do.”

“You’re not a Jedi."

It was a very straight forward statement and she knew that Osanna didn't really mean anything by it, but it still stung a little.  Her eyes snapped open and she made a face, “well, it’s not what _I_ do.  You saved me, I saved you.  We can call it even and say we’re friends.”

Osanna stared at her for a moment.  Anndara wondered if what she had said was outlandish until Osanna held out her hand.

“Dr. Lo taught me this last night.  You shake hands, right?”  She said.  Anndara smiled and clasped Osanna’s scarlet hand with her considerably less colorful one.  

“Right.  Friends.”

Osanna blinked and smiled a small smile, “friends.”

“So what did you pack me?”  Anndara said smiling as well for what seemed like the first time in forever.  

They shifted through the contents of the box, Osanna pointing out the fuzzy blanket and cryo pack a young family had donated, the box of mild painkillers a miner who had also lost his leg had given with a note of suggestions for adjusting.  There was a data pad with a small box of datachips.  Flipping through the chips she noted a few popular but rather outdated hologames, one from Dr. Lo marked treatment plan, and two from the Local Community Officer who had decided that they should have something to read and had issued them Imperial and Republic library cards (under fake names Anndara noted). It was an ordinary datapad, with a screen and holoprojector light, but it was set up to connect not only with the holonet but the library linkups.  She felt a rush of excitement.  Even if she was three years removed from her schooling she had always loved learning and reading.  Aurelia had been much more inclined to learning and sparring.  Anndara had usually been on the other end of those sparring matches.  It never ended well for her.   

“Did you get one of these?”  Anndara asked, holding up library chips. Osanna set down the very patched jacket she had dug out from the bottom of the box.

“Yes, why?”

“Have you ever used a library?”

“No.”

“Do you like reading?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Can you read?”

“Not well?”

“I’ll help you.  We can pick out some books once we get on our way to...wherever we’re going.”  The sentence had started out excited and hopeful but ended in uncertainty.  Osanna nodded, her eyes going unfocused for a moment.

“We should get out to the ship,” she said.  Anndara agreed quietly.

“What’s this about a chair?” she asked.

“It’s right here,” Dr. Lo said, stepping into the room pushing the hover chair.  

The chair itself was standard Republic Government issue, complete with standard adaptive tech logos on the side, no flashy colors.  It was a contoured, padded seat with an adjustable back.  Two handles protruded from the top of the back.  The armrests extended from the back of the chair as well and had control panels set into the padding.

“So, It’s not great,” Dr. Lo mused, “but it will work.  It’s got a standard repulsor lift and motor.  But it wont go over a walking pace.  That’s a regulation thing.  Kinda stupid since you can’t get out of danger very quickly, we don’t typically let models like this on the job site because of that.”

“Why?”  Anndara interjected, “What if I get into danger, as I seem to be really good at that?”

 “You’ll have to have someone pushing you or mod the chair on your own, but for civie use, this is the best you’ll get without a permit,” he replied, drumming his fingers on the chair’s back, “Some law about abuse of technology.  I don’t know why its like that, so that might be something you want to look into.  As for the basics, always remember to sink it with a ship’s artificial grav otherwise the change in relative motion will throw you at a wall.  Always charge it before going planetside and keep the extra battery pack in the base.  Typically it will run for three days without charging, but if you get into a situation where you can’t charge it, you’ll be a sitting duck.” 

She didn’t like the sound of that.  Sure, a three day charge was great, but the idea of stalling out somewhere did not appeal to her.  It seemed incredibly undignified and the icey feeling of helplessness threatened to steel over her mind.

“Here’s the thousand credit question.  How do I get into it?”  She said, trying to focus on the present.  

“Right, here we go,” Dr. Lo said and he pried out one of the control panels from the arm rest.  “Most people like to keep one of the pads next to their beds or at their work stations.  Just keep it where ever you need to move in and out of the chair most frequently,” He explained.  He began to point out the different functions on the screen, “you have your basic elevation and speed controls.  Try brining it over the bed.”

She gamely took the controller and began adjusting settings.  She quickly learned that it was a fairly temperamental thing and that the controls were very sensitive as it collided with the ceiling.  She had only attempted to add five inches to the hight.  Great.  Just off to a great start.  She tried again, being more careful this time, and brought it as close to the bed as possible.

“This is the hard part.  Scoot yourself onto the chair.” Dr. Lo said, patting the seat.  Oh boy.  

_________

_Regan_

 They had hit the JACKPOT.  HOLY BLASTERS AND ALL THAT WAS GOOD.  Regan stared in disbelief at the locker she had just broken into.  While the others had been packing up the donations and saying their farewells to the doctor, she had been making herself at home on _The Horranth_ \--Stars, they would have to change that name.  She had been rooting around in the crew quarters when she found a false panel (always check for smuggling holes the minute you acquire a new vessel, that’s what Dad always said), and the small locker that had been wedged in the compartment had taken some time to get it out.  And it was heavy.  Then there was the lock.  But it had all been worth it.  The credits, all 150,000 of them, gleamed at her. 

Everything--and she meant everything--up until this moment had seemed absolutely hopeless after last night.  But now?  They could fuel this thing for months.  A YEAR maybe.  Part of her--the part that she had only ever listened to on _occasion_ \--whispered in her ear that the others didn’t _have_ to know.  She didn’t owe them anything.  This little voice from the back of her head was soundly beaten down by a vision of hellfire and collapsing walls and then the _push_.  It always came back to the _push_.  She owed them.  Not just Melyra, Melyra was her friend, of course she would share with her friend.  But the _push_.  She put her head in her hands.  That was life debt material right there.  She might not be a Wookie, but she could say she was in deep.

________

_Aurelia_

“That’s the ship we stole?”  

Aurelia almost started laughing at the awe in her sister’s voice.  Osanna and Melyra followed close behind them, bringing up the rear of their small column with the some crates of dry rations on a hover cart.   _The Horranth_ stood before them, a hulking shape of grungy, gunky green against the neat background of the station.  It was a deep bellied ship, its engines and thrusters housed at the rear of the vessel and the domed cockpit protruding slightly from its nose.  Windows were slashed along the starboard and port sides of the vessels, where she knew the crew quarters were.  There were no visible weapons systems, which in Aurelia’s mind was good.  But she had already had an earful from Regan about the necessity of defending themselves, she was sure the twi’lek had other ideas for modifications.      

“Yeah,” Aurelia said as her sister hummed along in the chair beside her, “What do you think?”

“Ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen and bigger than any standard transport.  What is it?” she asked, eyes darting from cockpit to cargo bay where the boarding ramp was descending as Regan came out.

“That,” Melyra said as she adopted a rather pompous tone, “Is a modified Corellian W19 medium freighter with added bonuses such as a full working refresher.”

“So you were listening,” Regan called, Melyra blew a raspberry at her, “first time for everything I suppose.  Get your butts on board and strap in.  We’ve got a lot to do and I want to haul jets ASAP.”

Regan turned, waving them aboard.  Aurelia shot Melyra a quizzical look over her shoulder.

“She always this eager to be gone?”  She asked.

Melyra shrugged, “Depends.  There’s bad blood here now.  Jerome complicated things.”

Aurelia considered this for a moment.  She decided to let her curiosity drop.  She agreed that they needed to be gone.  There was no telling if the Empire suspected that they were still alive.  There would be a price on her head by now in the Republic as well.  She tried not to think on that at the moment.  She could ponder all she wanted in deep space.  She trotted up the boarding ramp. 

 She followed Regan into the belly of the beast and took stock of her surroundings.  It wasn’t that she hadn’t paid attention during their initial flight in _The Horranth_ , but she had been a bit more concerned with keeping her sister alive.  It was big.  Not big like the military transports she had stowed away on to get to her sister, but big in a way that they could have a bolo-ball match in here if they wanted.  The walls of the bay were curved, but the view of the complete internal silhouette of the ship was truncated by floor of the deck above.  She knew that directly in front of them was the engine room as well as a comms room.  Above them were the cockpit, common area, armory, and med bay.  And Above that was the half level. The crew quarters.

“OK,” Regan said, cracking her knuckles and bringing Aurelia back to the present, “quick rundown before we take off.  I’ve got the nav computer hookd up and ready to run hyperspace coordinates to Lah’mu.  Its out of the way but not far from Dantooine, either.  And if we want to find work I know a guy there.  Not a lot of people on Lah’mu, fewer than Dantooine has left actually, so they’re always grateful for someone to run goods for them.  It is a pretty long haul, it’ll take a while to get there.  That is if we’re all sticking together.  Otherwise, Mel and I will drop you off wherever you want to go.”

She looked at the Koras and Osanna expectantly and they in tern cast hurried and confused looks among themselves.  Aurelia felt her sister shift uncomfortably.

“We don’t really have anywhere to go.  Our family is gone.  And I don’t want to think about what the Jedi would do to us if we went back to them now,”  She supplied, placing a hand on Anndara’s shoulder, “We all came out of a pretty rough situation and we all seem to get along.  So yeah, let’s do a job.”

Osanna nodded, “I don’t have any clue where I would go anyways.  If it’s okay, I’ll stay here.”

Aurelia noticed that Regan almost looked relieved, like a weight was being taken off of her shoulders.

“Cool,” she said, a grin creeping over her face.  She turned to Melyra, “Get the hatched secured and get ready for takeoff.”

The twi’lek skipped up the stairs, two at a time, pumping her fist as she chanted, “Let’s!  Haul!  Jets!”

Melyra rolled her eyes and turned to the panels next to the exit.  She began flipping switches and adjusting displays as the gangplank retracted and the hatch sealed with a hiss.  

“Sooo...” Aurelia said as the three of them were suddenly left with nothing to do, “Do we strap in?”

The floor began to shiver slightly and the hum of the engines filled the space.  Melyra cleared her throat as she walked behind them and began up the stairs. 

“Yes, particularly if you’ve never jumped to hyperspace in a craft this small before,” she said.  As she disappeared onto the next deck she called, “and shut down that chair before the jump!  I’m not cleaning you off the walls!”

The ship lurched upwards. The three hurriedly clambered up the steps, pausing occasionally to help Anndara.  As they entered the cockpit they found Regan and Melyra in the pilot and co-pilot’s chairs.  Regan half turned to them and flashed a smile.

“Pretty fucking spiffy, huh?” she turned back to the controls as the ship gained altitude and they left the docking bay, “The previous owners of this ship might have been slime balls and shit decorators, but damn did their pilot know how to customize.”

She settled herself back in the seat a little more and pulled on the control wheel.  The ship pulled away from the station, the cockpit still facing it. It was like one of the zooming shots from the holofilms, Aurelia thought, as the station shrunk in size.  It was like...looking down at a miniature, glittering against the dark backdrop.  She plunked down in a chair and Osanna followed suit.  They heard a dull thud as Anndara powered down her chair and magnetized it to the wall at the back of the cockpit.

As they continued their trajectory, the view from the window spinning dizzyingly as Regan brought the ship to the angle she wanted.  Melyra was tapping at a screen and nodded at Regan once her hands had stilled.  Anticipation well in Aurelia’s gut.

“You guys ever actually seen a jump before?” Regan asked, reaching out to the control panel to grasp a lever.  Melyra did the same.  When Aurelia and the others quietly said no, Regan’s smile broadened as she said, “It’s a fucking treat.  Punch it.”

They pulled down on the levelers in sync.  The sky seemed to stretch before them, stars blurring into streaks.  It seemed to Aurelia that time and space stretched infinitely around them.  And then, like a child firing a rubber band from their fingers, they launched forwards.  The force hit her chest and pushed her into her seat.  It wasn’t surprising, she had felt the jolt on many ships before, but the breath went out of her as they were pulled into the hyperspace lane and the cosmos swilled around her.  Her eyes were wide and her jaw was slack.  It was quiet in the cockpit.  Regan leaned back in her chair and folded her arms behind her head. 

“A real mcfucking beauty,” she said quietly.

 


	3. Holonet Mail Drop 10536

_Receiving data…_

_Processing…_

_Mail drop complete…_

_Mr. Nor,_

_I’ve decided to forward you some information you might find valuable.  I hope that this more than compensates you for our past encounter.  You can’t say that I don’t pay my debts._

_Encryption detected: level 30…_

_Decryption key accepted…_

Priority Targets

For Imperial Intelligence Use Only, Follow Information Disposal Protocols After Use

To: Agent 5234

From: [Redacted]

I can’t afford to brief you on this mission in person.  We’re sending out a limited number of agents for this job.  I consider you to be one of our better operatives so you've made the short list. 

Three days ago an Imperial Dreadnought, the Black Iron, went dark on the edges of wild space.  We don’t have any information on why this Dreadnought was so close to such dangerous space.  We have been unable to get any information on the subject form the Dark Council itself or our contacts close to them.  As you have probably already assumed, this makes us very uneasy.  While I accept that the Dark Council has the liberty to conduct covert missions without informing Imperial Intelligence, there have been other concerning events.  Upon receiving this data from one of our Outer Rim operatives, said operative was killed in a rather grizzly manner.  I'll spare you the details.  This information leads me to believe that if this is some mechanization from within the Sith it is now out of control and is endangering our own people.  Your assignment is to discover what the Black Iron’s mission was, what it was carrying—if anything—and if there were any survivors of whatever happened.      

I cannot stress the importance or sensitivity of this assignment enough.  Good luck.

_End of message…_

_No other pending mail…_   


	4. 3.22.4 ATC

**3.22.4 ATC**

**______**

_Regan_

Regan leaned her forehead against the refresher mirror.  It was cool and soothing against the still tender burns on her face.  She distantly registered the illuminated numerals of the bathroom clock flip over. 

 _1 am.  Damn,_ thought.  There was so much of the night left.  She considered checking the autopilot again, but she had done that five times already.    

She exhaled deeply, pulling her face away from the mirror to regard herself critically.  She noted three things:  1. The burns on her face were starting to heal over.  2. She looked like shit.  3.  She thought that she would look older now that she was fifteen.  She turned her head this way and that, trying to assess the full damage done by the burns.  It wasn’t as bad as she had thought.  Sure it covered a lot of area, but it wasn’t as unsightly as she had feared.  Maybe it would just make her look more bad ass after it scarred over?  She regarded her tired eyes skeptically.  That would not do. 

She pulled her half-finished EnergyZAP from the shelf next to her and took a swing.  It was one of those sports drinks that didn’t say Adascorp on the bottle, but by the look, smell, and feel of it, you knew it was Adascorp and that it would probably give you some disease in five years.  _Whatever_.  She took another drink and pulled the sliding door open.  No auto doors here, no siree, just plain old sliders and jiggly locks.  She removed the bathroom from the list of places to hunker down if a shoot-out broke out on the ship.  She screwed the cap on the bottle and shook it experimentally in her hand.  She knew there was supposed to be some type of fruit puree in it but she hadn’t hit the telltale sludge yet.

She glanced about the common room, dodging the piles of stuff that had been heaped here and there, as she made her way to the couch.  Some of the piles had actual labels on top of them, others you knew just by looking that they were destined to be shredded, broken down, or re-purposed.  One read, ‘clothes to use for scarp,’ and another read, ‘posters that need to be burned in the deepest pits of hell.’  The poster pile had been was Melyra’s.  In general, Regan didn’t feel great about picking through dead men’s things.  At the same time, these were the jack asses that had picked her and Mel up to turn into the Empire for some fast creds.  Plus the true spacer in her said to never waste anything, so it all evened out in the end, she supposed. 

But that’s what they had done all day, cleaning.  Clearing out all of the junk the former crew had left behind.  They had thrown themselves into such mundane tasks because, 1. The smell was unbearable and 2. It meant they didn’t have to talk about…anything.  She knew none of them wanted to talk about _it_ , but she also knew that they would have to…eventually.  It was like an oppressive fog that hung between them.  Well, maybe more like smog.  Specifically the kind that you only get on Nar Shaddaa after it rains, a putrid and unhealthy thing.  For right now, the floors smelled like cleaning products and they had discover that they needed new air filters and probably some sanitary gloves.  There were some things you just don't touch with your bare hands.  Then when the lights had dimmed for the synthetic night, they were all snug in their rooms and the ship was blessedly quiet.  She should feel relieved.  But…

She sighed, sinking into the worn out cushions, trying not to think about the butts that had come before.  The emergency lights illuminated the floor, reflecting a soft glow up the walls so she could vaguely see the outline of the band posters Melyra had yet to pass judgement on.  Those would be some of the first things that she would throw in the junk pile tomorrow, she decided.  As would this couch.  It smelled like cigs and sweat socks and its color was something along the lines of electric green.  _What was with this ship and green?_ She put her elbows on her knees and tossed the bottle between her hands while she bounced her left leg in the way that drove Melyra nuts.  She tried to think of nothing, an age old tactic she had been favoring lately.  She wasn’t very good at it. 

            _She was six and sitting next to Dad in the cockpit of the_ Nabrina _.  She was bouncing her legs, she had so much energy it would spill over if she didn’t.  He was speaking in Ryl._

_“You’ll have to fly on your own when I can’t fly myself, so watch carefully.”_

She dropped the bottle and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes.  She didn’t want to wake any of the others.  They had all been so tired.  Even if they hadn’t really done anything important today, they were so tired.  Regan was so, so tired. 

 _Y_ _ou have to be responsible.  You have to be responsible._   She let her hands fall away.  She grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, took a long swing and rummaged through the junk on the table.  She pulled out a stylus and a piece of paper and started writing a list for a market run.  Anything would work to keep her mind busy. 

 _How much would it cost to buy seven pounds of meat?  Togrutas are carnivores…Who's going to kriffing cook?!_ She bounced her leg and took a swig. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there like that, mechanically putting items on the list, bouncing her leg, taking a swig every few minutes.  But she did notice when the bottle ran dry.  She rolled it between her hands, bouncing her leg all the while, wondering if she should get another one.  A finger tapped her shoulder.  She jumped, dropping the bottle, and turned to see…  

Osanna stood next to the couch.  The tiredness in her eyes rivaled Regan’s and she noticed that the red Twi’lek was looking at her apprehensively.

“Hey,” Regan said, rubbing a hand over her own eyes, “Can’t sleep?”

Osanna shook her head.

“Want to sit down here with me, then?”

Osanna nodded.  Regan scooted over to make room.  She found that the smell of the couch was starting to bother her less and less.  Osanna sat on the very edge of the cushion, posture perfect, her hands neatly folded in her lap.  Regan wondered if this was what had been drilled into her with the Sith, the poise and grace.  She went to take a sip and was disappointed by the reminder that the bottle was now empty.  She stood up, stretching.

“Want something to drink?”

Osanna shook her head, not meeting her gaze.  Regan shrugged.  _More for me, I guess_.  She shuffled over to the commissary unit and pulled another bottle of energyZAP from the fridge.  She shook it as she walked back to her spot on the couch, settling back down onto the over worn stuffing.  She cracked the cap open and too a long drink, all the while keeping an eye on Osanna.  She had pulled Regan’s scribblings closer to her and was regarding the page with interest. 

“Got anything you want to add to the shopping list?”

“We don’t have any credits,” Her voice was hoarse and trembling.  _Has she been crying?_

“I found a stash from the…people who used to live here.  I think it’s what they were given for bringing Mel and me to the Imps.  It should set us up for a while.  I was hoping we could all sit down and talk about how to split it up tomorrow…well I guess today.”

There was a long minuet of awkward silence.  Regan bounced her leg.  Osanna sniffled.   

 _Say something_ , she thought, _something about how this will all be okay in the long run.  Something profound_.

“Ya know I think that you’ve been doing really well.  You didn’t get hyperspace stomach when we made the jump so you didn’t lose your lunch.  Most people hurl first time round if they didn’t grow up with ships.”

_Five out of five stars, sleemo. You couldn’t have been more fucking weird—_

"I threw up the first time I went into hyperspace."  Osanna replied, "This was the first time I was actually able to see it though."

_Huh...Okay._

The silence stretched on again.  Regan took a swig.

“Do you…do you and the others like me?”  Osanna’s voice was very quiet. 

Regan froze with the bottle half way to her lips.

“I mean, sure I guess.  I’ve known you for what?  72 hours?  So far we’ve escaped a flaming ship together, stole a ship, fled to a backwater mining facility, and now you’re sticking around to run some jobs.  Solid enough basis for a new friendship if you ask me.  Aren’t you and Anndara friends?”

The question hung in the air.  Regan took a drink and Osanna stared at her hands.

“She said she was my friend,” Osanna said quietly.  Regan nodded, fidgeting with the bottle.

“I kinda assumed you two were friends before,” she waved her hands expansively, miming an explosion.  Osanna shifted uncomfortably.

“I only knew her a few days before the explosion.”

“But when we found you two, you were helping her.  I thought you two were…I dunno…part of the umm…slave crew?  You said you served some Sith Lord?”

Osanna fidgeted and there was another pause.

“She wasn’t a slave and I wasn’t part of the crew.”

Regan furrowed her brow.  “Wait, what were you doing there then?  If you weren’t part of the crew?  And what was Anndara?” 

_Way to be pushy, now she’s never gonna talk to you again._

“I mean if you don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” She added hurriedly, going for another gulp.

“She helped me,” Osanna whispered, “She helped me kill the man who hurt me.”

Regan choked.  She hacked and spluttered, her brain couldn’t process what she had just heard.  _Osanna_ killed someone?  More over _Anndara_ had helped _Osanna_ kill someone?!    

“What?” She wheezed.  Osanna seemed to shrink, her perfect posture folding in on itself.

“I’m not—” She coughed, trying to get all the words out while her lungs complained rather loudly, “I’m not pissed or anything.  I mean fuck whoever that guy was, ya know.  Sith.  Shit.  But also, there’s a lot to unpack in that sentence?”

Osanna began mechanically running her hands over one of her lekku like a human child might pull and smooth their braid when nervous.  Her eyes were locked on a point Regan couldn’t see.  There was a long pause and Regan could feel an itch beginning between her shoulder blades.

_Aaaahhh, krif, krif, krif… I’m not good at this.  I can’t bullshit this._

“Do you want to talk about it?”  Regan asked stiffly.  There was a second long silence.

“Do you—ah—want a hug?”

Osanna stopped fidgeting with her lek and met Regan’s eyes.  Regan forced herself to stop bouncing her leg as her brain scrambled to figure out what to do.  The girl next to her looked so small and so scared, like she could burst into tears at any second.  And she was staring at Regan with an intensity she didn’t know how to interpret.

 _SaY SOmEthING JacKAss,_  Her mind wailed.

“Osanna,” Regan said as gently as she could, “If you want to talk about it, I will listen to you.  I won’t hurt you or judge you.  None of us will hurt you.  Anndara won’t hurt you, Aurelia won’t hurt you, and Melyra won’t hurt you.”

Osanna lowered her gaze, her head bowed, with her hands still gripping her lek as if it were a life line. 

“I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know if I should feel good or bad about what happened.  I don’t know if I like what I did.  I don’t even know if I meant to do any of it.  What if…what if…”

 _What if you hate me if I tell you._ Osanna didn’t say it, but Regan could hear it all the same.  Fuck, what had she gotten herself into.  She considered the situation for a moment.

Here she was, sitting in a _relatively_ well put together tin can, family gone, she was most likely on the Imperial shit list, probably the Republic shit list as well, next to a Twi’lek who really needed some therapy and probably a lifelong vacation.  But that Twi’lek would get none of that.  Even if she went to the Republic, she’d be put in some shitty foster care system or get picked off on one of the Core Worlds by a gang.  She didn’t want to think about what would happen to her in the Outer Rim.  The five of them were in this together.  They were the best help that any of them would ever get.  And well, Regan reflected, she was a ride or die type of girl.

“So, I’m gonna make a really stupid promise, right now,” Regan said. She took a long swig from the bottle and thunked it down on the table.  _Ride or die_.  “ _I_ will not hate _you_.  No matter how messed up your story is.  I can promise you now that by the end of this story, I will probably want to shoot something, but it won’t be you.  It will be the fucker you mentioned.  And I will do everything in my power to keep whatever this shit is from ever happening again.  And if you ever feel like you need to talk, I’m here.  You want to learn how to kick some people’s asses, I’m here.  You want to do anything, I’m here.”     

Osanna raised her head and stared at Regan.  She looked as if she was about to speak, seemed to think better of it, and settled instead for placing one of her hands on Regan’s arm.  Regan could barely feel the pressure, but she could feel the shaking and she got the message.  She opened her arms for a hug.  Osanna awkwardly wrapped her arms around Regan’s torso.  As Regan wrapped her own arms as gently as she could around the smaller girl, she felt how thin she was.  She was all angles, Osanna, like a fragile bird.  And some Sith had gone and done something bad.  _Yep_ , Regan thought as Osanna’s grip on her tightened and she felt tears beginning to soak into her shirt, _I really want to shoot some Sith._


	5. Memories: Osanna, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Note on the Content: This chapter contains content about abuse and rape in the character's past.

_Osanna_

**One Year Ago**

She had never left the Tower complex.  It was the only place that she knew and it was deep in the jungle of Dromund Kaas, far from Kaas city or any outpost.  It was beautiful in its own way.  The ancient stone work rose above the sprawling canopy of the trees, vines crawled up the Tower’s craggy walls and peaked in through the windows.  She used to imagine that the stones could whisper stories about the history of the forest.  On the rare days when the sun was out, she would imagine that she was like the princesses in the story books, looking out over her kingdom from her castle.  The darkness of night was illuminated by the gentle glowing flowers that opened their petals only when the moon was full and others only when it rained.  She and the other girls used to braid those flowers together and wrap them around their lekku.  They would brave the storms or the night to twill and be free together as the flowers opened up and crowned their heads.  Oh yes, she wasn’t alone out there.  There were seventeen others like her.  All twi’lek, all crimson skinned with black markings striped across their skin.  They weren’t her sisters.  Not in blood.  They all came from other places, but they were all brought here.  Some when they were babies, like Osanna.  Others when they were older and knew their names and their families.  They didn’t know why they were brought here, just that they were expected to learn and to obey.  Some said that they were selected for a specific purpose, that maybe they were looking for one of them to distinguish themselves.  Some said they were there to be shipped off to Grand Moffs as curiosities.  Some said this was an honor, other said this was terrible. 

In the courtyard, walled off from the outside world, there were always commandos.  They never talked to the girls and they were always relieved at dawn the next day when the tutors arrived.  The tutors arrived everyday by speeders or transports, but they didn’t teach them to fight and they didn’t send them into the jungle to build statues.  They tutored them in art and music, dancing and etiquette.  There were very few books that they were allowed to read, but the ones that she was given permission to, so loved dearly.  Osanna thought that these things were beautiful and didn’t want for anything.  She loved painting and drawing and the tutors said she sang well.  She was, for all intents and purposes, happy in the Tower.  The girls who were brought in when they were older said that this was because she knew nothing else.  Those girls talked about the stars, other planets, and food that didn’t come in ration bars or meal cups.  But Osanna was content.  She believed that the Sith and the Imperials had brought them to the Tower to protect them.  Why should they leave?  Why should they question?  Then he arrived for the first time.  That was one year ago.

He was tall and middle aged, human, his face scarred by his descent into the dark side of the force, his were eyes a sullen yellow, and his hair the color of ash.  They were expected to sing and dance for him, which they did.  He liked Osanna.  He was impressed with her paintings, he had said that her calligraphy was good, and that she sang beautifully.  She thought this was good.  Then he took her to a room away from the others.

When she went back to the others, she was bleeding, bruised and crying.  As the other girls held her in their arms, some crying with her, others dabbing at her bleeding lips, he declared that she would do and that he would return.  He left.  The tutors said she should be proud that such a Sith Lord would choose her as his slave.  But she wasn’t.  She only felt fear, sorrow, pain, and searing despair.  Osanna could not bring herself to tell the others what had happened.  Some of the older girls inferred and tried to comfort her, they feared for themselves and the others.  But then they started taking them away.  One by one, each was taken onto a transport and never came back until there was only Osanna left, alone in the Tower.  She cried most days.  Sometimes she would try to braid the flowers around her head and stand in the moonlight.  Alone, in the cold and damp night, there was no comfort in the gentle sway of the petals. 

He did come back.  Again and again over the course of the year he would visit the Tower.  She would sing and dance for him but there was no joy in it any more, only pain.  She would paint and draw for him but she felt nothing in the images.  They were flat and despairing.  The pictures of the other girls—her sisters—were the only ones that she truly loved, the only ones that had depth and feeling, but he burned those in front of her.  She hadn’t known what rage or anger were until then, she had only felt sadness and pain.  Watching the painting of her sisters singing in the moonlight turn to ash, crystallized something in her chest.  She was angry.  He took them away.  He took away their presence, took away their voices, and took away their faces.  She wanted to make him pay.  But still she felt the crushing sadness.  The isolation.  The pain.  How could she stop him?  She had no way. 

**Five Days Ago**

She felt so small in the chair next to him and his entourage.  They were seated in the passenger’s quarters of the Imperial transport and they had been talking among themselves.  The other Imperials who were with him were lackeys.  Non-force users who had been acquired through manipulation and money.  None of them looked at her.  She shrank further down in her seat.  She wished her robe was larger, so she could pull more of herself into it.  He hadn’t hit her yet.  That was good.  She might get through this after all.  When he had said they were leaving the planet, she had felt a knife lance through her heart.  She didn’t know what lay beyond the Tower, let alone Dromund Kaas.  But she had found space travel to be a series of increasingly larger ships with rooms she was ordered to sit in for hours at a time.  She felt the occasional lurch entering and exiting hyperspace which had made her sick the first time, but after that, she had found it unremarkable.

The intercom let forth a wave of static that resolved itself into a gravelly voice, “My lord, we will be arriving in seven minutes.”

“Very good,” he replied.  

As the others gathered their things for the approach and left, he turned to Osanna, his yellow eyes burning into her skull, she felt like her body was being raked over hot coals.  What she wouldn’t give to be a million miles away, even just back in the Tower with the other girls. 

“Sit up straight,” he commanded, placing a gloved finger under her chin.  She did as she was told.  She wanted the others to come back, even if they did think she was beneath them, anything was better than being alone in the room with him.  She felt stripped and naked.  She wanted to curl in on herself, to wrap herself in so many layers of cloth no one would ever be able to see an inch of her skin again.  He tilted her chin up and to the side, running his other gloved hand across her cheek bone.  She forced herself not to flinch as his hand slid over a bruise from the week before. 

“You should count yourself lucky,” he crooned, “to be here with me on this voyage.  Where we are going, what we will see, my dear…few have witnessed anything like it.  The Emperor has chosen me specifically.  You should feel honored on my behalf.  And you, you will serve a purpose here as well.” 

He let her go and she let out a sharp exhale as he stood and moved away. 

“You have been remarkably well behaved, as of late,” he said over his shoulder, “I have business to attend to for the next two days.  I will assign a droid to you.  You may wander as you see fit so you may bask in the glory of the Sith.  Consider this a rare treat.  Wait here.  The droid will fetch you.”

He passed through a door and it sealed shut behind him.  She was alone.  Her heart quickened.  _She was alone!  In space!_ Maybe she could—her sudden rush of euphoria was dampened.  No, she could not, in fact, escape.  She had no clue how ships worked.  Nor how space really worked.  Now that the Sith and Imperials were gone the realization that she was clueless about everything around her came crashing in.  Her heart quickened its pace again but this time it was accompanied by the skin prickling feeling of panic.  She glanced her.  This was fine, she just had to stay alive.  If the Sith and Imperials were surviving and not panicking, she could too.  She breathed in deeply and smoothed out her robe compulsively.             

As she stared at her surroundings, trying to figure out where all the pipes and wires in the ceiling went, she heard the tap-tap-tap of rather stilted footsteps.  The door swished open, revealing a protocol droid.  She had seen protocol droids before, they had been brought in to teach them etiquette or language propriety from time to time, but this one seemed to be of a different model. 

“Pardon me, but are you Mistress Osanna, slave of the great Lord of the Sith Voshan, who serves his lordship the great Darth Grathan under the auspices of his eminence our most esteemed Emperor of the Sith?”

Osanna blinked.  

“I…suppose so,” she said confusedly, “I don’t know—”

“Most excellent,” the droid exclaimed, cutting her off and shuffling into the room, “I am C3-L2 and I am at your service.  Your Master, the great Lord of the Sith Voshan, has instructed me to guide you in traversing this facility.  He has left instruction about which artifacts I am to show you first as he believes that this will enforce your good behavior to look upon such artifacts of the Sith so that you may understand the true terror and wonder that you serve.”

“Oh,” was all she managed to get out.  This was very…different. 

“If you are quite ready to begin, I will show you to the Black Iron.”

Perhaps this would keep her form worrying about being in space?  Yes, something to keep her from thinking too much about...the void.  She had no clue what the Black Iron was, but it was probably better than wherever _he_ had gone.  It took a moment for her etiquette training to kick in.

“Yes, please.  It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance, C3-L2.  It is an honor to have such a competent guide.”

“Oh my.  You are much more polite than the other Sith.”

There was pregnant pause as Osanna stared at the droid.  She almost expected a scarlet lightsaber to materialize out of the air and strike him down.  She held her breath.

“Perhaps I should not have said that,” the droid amended.  _Could droids sound worried_?  “Please follow me.”

She followed the droid’s rather slow pace, walking as quietly as she could.  Were it not for C3’s footsteps she was sure that the Imperial crew members who passed them in the hall would not have seen her for looking at their datapads and readouts.  She focused on remembering the twists and turns of the corridor as C3 continued to drone on about the glory of the Empire.  As they came to a hallway with a series of armed guards, C3 paused and Osanna came to a stop behind him.  A woman in black armor approached them.

“Do you have business here?  Are you cleared to enter?”  She asked curtly.

Osanna’s brain stalled out yet again.  She wasn’t used to people actually addressing her and expecting her to response.

“Um—”

“This is Mistress Osanna, slave of the great Lord of the Sith…”  Osanna tuned out the rest as C3 completed the title, keeping her attention on the woman in front of her.  She noted the blaster strapped to her hip.  _Could I steal a blaster?  How hard would that be?_

“Right then,” She snapped herself back to attention as the guard addressed her again, “Go in.  Don’t give us a reason to come in after you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Osanna dipped into a bow, pressing her hands together in a sign of respect.

“Huh,” the guard raised an eyebrow and cast a glance at the others lined along the walk way, as if checking to see if they also saw this overly formal goodbye.

Osanna sped after C3, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else while she was here.

“We will be starting with the relics that are on display in State Room 3, all of which have been unearthed from Korriban, most fascinating story—“

She did listen--occasionally.  She was more interested in looking at the ship itself and watching the crew pace to and fro.  She wondered if they lived like her.  She doubted it. 

They took several turns before she started noticing the difference.  The air was starting to turn icy cold.  She could feel her fingers tingling.  Something was very, very wrong.  Her footsteps began to falter.  She felt…Fear.  Darkness.  Pain.  And something buried deep under that.  She stopped.  Her breathing filled her ears and then fell away.  She couldn’t hear C3 anymore.  She couldn’t hear the rumbles in the ship’s walls or feel the vibrations of the floor.  It was all replaced by crushing silence.  She turned to ask C3 what was wrong, but the corridor was empty.  It seemed to stretch on and on into nothingness, the dull grey giving way to blackness.  She was greeted by the same view back the way she came.   And yet, there was a corridor that branched off only a few paces away.  She could see a light flickering and reflecting off of the metallic surfaces.  Blue-white, like the flowers she used to wear. 

Her breath rose before her like a ghost as she glided down the hall.  Her fingers were numb but she reached out her hand all the same.  She pressed her hand the metal, fern leaves of frost spiraling outwards, curling up wards and outwards.  She laughed in amazement.  The cold that was knifing into her body felt wrong.  But the beauty of the arching patterns of frost...it felt natural, beautiful…She trailed her fingers against the wall as she walked, the patterns following her deeper down this new passage way.  Her eyes were transfixed.  She felt dazzled, giddy.  It was almost enough to block the creeping sensation that was slowing making its way up her neck.  But not quite enough.  She froze before the door.  It was no different than the others she had walked through, but the cold seemed to change here.  She could feel eddies and currents, warmth worked some tendrils through the air.  Where her fingers touched the metal, lacing frost into the durasteel, impossible patches of green showed through.  Her breath hitched once again.  Moss and little leaves.  And then the warmth hit her hands and pain shot up her arms.  She recoiled, pulling her arms to her torso, and letting out hissing gasps as the warmth battled with the cold.  Her arms burned with fire and ice.  Eyes streaming, she stumbled up to the door.  She had no other way to go, she only thought of making the pain stop.  The sheets of metal slid apart and she staggered into the room, her feet slipping on ice that seemed to be melting and freezing at the same time.  Then she stood shaking, transfixed, her eyes wide.

 The room was wide and the ceiling was vaulted but there were no mechanical lights illuminating the room.  The floor she stood on smoked as water sublimated at her feet.  Radiating out from her the floor was covered in topsoil where plants had taken root.  Many were withering but even as they turned to gnarled husks, they were renewed and began to flower once more only to whither rapidly once again.  The persistent glow of the room was patchy and shifted color.  All the light came from five sources.  Four dark obelisks that glowed with an eerie bloody tinge, mist rolling off of them, and there was the kolto tank.  The tank itself wasn’t glowing, it was the liquid inside of it, which was pearly blue-white and semi-transparent.  And floating in that water, curled into a fetal position, hair splaying out around her, was a girl.  She was human, a teenager, maybe. She was clad in a set of scrub like clothing, like what they made Osanna wear on med day.  The girl’s nose and mouth were covered by an oxygen mask whose tube was anchored to the top of the tank.  Intertwined with the tube was another smaller one, or perhaps it was a wire.  Osanna inched closer, still clutching her arms against her chest.  The line led down and…  Again Osanna recoiled as her eyes reached the large needle protruding from deep in the girl’s neck.  She backed away quickly.  She could barely see the girl’s face, but she could tell her eyes were closed.  She tried to calm her breathing.  She could just leave, find C3 and pretend she never saw this…whatever this was.  But she couldn’t move.  The cold and the warmth rooted her to the spot.

 

The girl opened her eyes.


End file.
